Posession
by storybookpen
Summary: He's had everyone he's ever wanted in Storybrooke, except her.  He'll do whatever it takes to make her his.  Emma/Gold dub-con.


Disclaimer: I don't own it.

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><p>There were things that Mr. Gold knew, though he couldn't say precisely how he knew them. He knew that David Nolan had once committed a terrible crime against him. He knew that deals, once made, could never be broken. And he knew that Storybrooke and all its inhabitants were his pawns to manipulate, his toys to be used and broken.<p>

It was evident to Gold from the start that there was only one way to get to Emma Swan. Oh, the girl was beginning to form other attachments here and there, yes—including with Mary Margaret, the thought of whom always brought a faint smirk to his lips—but even so it was the boy who'd brought her here and it was the boy for whom she'd stayed.

He came upon her as she left the mayor's house one evening, her stride stiff with fury. Another skirmish in the Swan-Mills war had ended badly for the sheriff, it seemed.

"Miss Swan," he called out, amused by the way she stiffened in dread at the sound of his voice.

She turned to face him with every sign of reluctance.

"A word, please," he said.

She heaved a sigh. "Look, it's been a long day and I just want to go home. Can we save the verbal sparring for another time?"

He smiled. "I'm afraid it's rather urgent."

"Fine," she said shortly. "Make it quick."

"Of course," he murmured, gesturing for her to lead the way to his shop.

The bell tinkled as she shoved the door open. He reached up to silence it, then swiftly and silently locked the door while her back was turned.

"What's this about, Mr. Gold?" she demanded. She stood in front of his cash register, her arms crossed over her chest, her foot tapping the floor.

He rubbed his thumb over the head of his cane. "It's Henry."

As he'd expected, the name was enough to earn him her undivided attention. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment she bore an uncanny resemblance to the mayor.

"What about Henry?"

He strolled deeper into the store, trailing his fingers along a shelf full of knickknacks. "It may surprise you to learn that I was the one who arranged for Regina Mills to adopt him."

Her expression didn't change, but she hesitated long enough that it was clear she hadn't known. "Nothing about you surprises me, Mr. Gold," she said, her voice slightly unsteady. "Whenever I think you can't get any more despicable—"

"I suppose you would have preferred for Henry to end up in the foster system," he interrupted, his eyebrows raised.

An almost imperceptible flinch. A long pause. Then, begrudging, "No. Of course not." Her shoulders sagged. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Gold crossed the floor of the shop, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet and cane, until he stood beside her, peering down at a crystal flower on the countertop. She turned as well, mirroring his body language.

"It's come to my attention that certain of the steps taken in arranging Henry's adoption were not strictly by the book," he said.

"Steps _you_took," she pointed out.

His lips quirked. "As the case may be. What's important is that a social services agent has called the adoption into question."

Emotions flashed across her face: surprise, worry, excitement, hope.

She leaned toward him. "What does this mean?"

"It doesn't mean that you can get custody," Gold said, knowing what her long-suppressed maternal instincts would have led her to think. "You gave Henry up in a closed adoption, Miss Swan. You have less legal claim to him than, well, than I do."

She shook her head. "Then what?"

He set his hand on her shoulder, ignoring the way she stiffened under his touch. "If they take Henry from Regina, he'll be put into foster care."

"No," she snapped.

"It's the law, my dear."

"You're the one who screwed up the adoption," she said. "_Do_something about it."

"I appreciate that you have such confidence in my ability to control the universe, but I'm afraid there's simply no—"

"Cut the crap," she said, jerking her shoulder out from under his hand. "You wouldn't be telling me all this if there was nothing you could do."

He smiled. "You're beginning to understand who I am."

She sneered. "You're not that complicated."

"It's true," he said smoothly. "I could probably fight for the adoption. I'd have to pull in a number of favors, but I could ensure that Regina's possession of Henry is ironclad." He paused, and then added the words he knew she was waiting for. "For a price." He leaned in close, his nose brushing against her hair, and inhaled deeply, letting her scent swirl around his lungs. Cinnamon and something else. Enchanting.

"So talk to Regina," she said. "I'm sure she can pay whatever you want." But she didn't move away from him, as much as he knew she wanted to. She knew it wasn't going to be that easy.

"I already have an arrangement with the mayor that covers everything she could possibly give me," Gold said. "No, if I'm going to go to this effort, I'm going to want something from you." He cupped the back of her neck with his hand, her skin silky against his palm.

"What do you want?" she said hoarsely.

He tightened his grip on her neck even as he slid behind her, leaving his cane propped against the counter. His body molded against hers, his legs pressed into hers, his hips snug against her buttocks. She had to be able to feel his hard cock. He pushed at her neck, urging her to bend over.

For a moment she resisted, her breaths coming harsh and frantic. He nuzzled her hair, his tongue flicking out to taste the shell of her ear. "Emma," he murmured.

It was as if the mere sound of her name stole of all her willpower. She yielded to his firm touch, bending at the waist to rest her elbows on the countertop. The movement pushed her back against him, making him groan at the pressure on his erection.

His hand slid from the back of her neck to grasp her throat, squeezing for just a moment before it slid down her collarbone to cup her breast through her shirt and bra.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

He rubbed her nipple with his thumb, feeling it peak. She made a soft sound of protest at the back of her throat. His other hand popped the button on her jeans. "Because you're the only person in this town who's a challenge," he said, drawing down her zipper. His hand went inside her pants to cup her panty-covered crotch. "Because I've had everything—and everyone—I've wanted in this town, except for you." His fingers slid under her panties to stroke her slit. "Because you're _mine_."

He gave her the full attention of his fingers then, pushing inside her and restraining the urge to groan as her hot inner walls clamped around him. His other hand massaged her breast, pinching her nipple periodically. His lips found her neck, licking and sucking at her pulse point. He coaxed her with his thumb on her clit and his fingers thrusting into her until he felt her unwillingly start to react, moisture forming ever so reluctantly.

That was when he pulled away and stepped back, his weight on his good leg, fully composed except for the bulge in his slacks and the dilation of his eyes. For a long moment he admired her trembling form from behind. Fully dressed in her customary armor of jeans and jacket, her hair mussed, her feet shoulder width apart. She looked beautiful. She looked like a debauched heroine. She looked like his conquest.

Ever so gradually, she turned around. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes downcast, her hands fisting at her sides. His eyes fell to her gaping jeans.

He could tell that she wanted him to speak, so he stayed silent. "You stopped," she growled at last.

He cocked his head. "Mmhmm."

"Was…was that all you wanted?"

He chuckled. "Hardly. But you can't expect me to do all the work, darling."

She closed her eyes. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Take off your jacket."

The jacket fell to the floor.

"Your shirt."

The shirt followed suit.

Gold's blood raced. He licked his lips.

"Take off your bra," he said gently. "Then come here and kiss me."

Sometime later, in the back room, he swept the contents of the table onto the floor and helped Emma Swan to lie back on it, her body gloriously nude. His shirt and jacket he'd left in the other room; now he kicked off his pants and briefs and crawled on top of her, pausing only a few seconds to lick her nipple before he pushed his tongue deep into her mouth. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, not quite pushing him away, but trying to keep him from coming closer.

Releasing her from the kiss, he took hold of one of her wrists in each hand and stretched them above her head, pinning them to the table. Locking gazes with her, he pressed the head of his cock against her opening.

"I hate you," she whispered, a tear creeping from the corner of her eye.

"That's all right," he said, and entered her with a deep thrust, groaning as her tight, slick heat encompassed him. He gave her a moment to adjust before he started to fuck her with long strokes, passion making his hold on her wrists tighten until she must have been in pain. "You're here." He kissed her again, his tongue plundering her mouth and stealing her oxygen. "You're here, and you're not going anywhere."

He let go of her wrists and pulled her leg up over his shoulder, opening her more widely to him. He thrust into her steadily, never breaking eye contact. Her face was a study, shame warring with arousal, fear mixed with determination.

He reached down to rub her clit. "Come for me," he said.

She gritted her teeth. "No."

Laughing, he pulled out and flipped her over, urging her up onto her hands and knees, then mounted her, the new angle allowing him to slide in even deeper. Holding her hips, he thrust into her hard and fast, his passion rising with each slap of his balls against her body.

"Come for me, _Emma_," he panted, pinching her clit viciously.

With a wordless cry she came, head thrown back in agonized bliss. Her walls tightened around him almost viciously, forcing him over the edge, and he roared and bit her shoulder as he released his seed deep inside of her.

There were things that Gold knew. He knew that Regina Mills, who was afraid of no one, was terrified of him. He knew that he would never tire of seeing certain inhabitants of Storybrooke on their knees. And he knew that Emma Swan belonged to him and would always belong to him, mind, body, and soul.


End file.
